


The Prince and the First Son

by sailor_bonnibel



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic), Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Slow-ish burn, copious amounts of british slang, the second revolutionary war?, trans-atlantic feud, why won't they admit that they're in love??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailor_bonnibel/pseuds/sailor_bonnibel
Summary: Derek Malik Nurse, First Son of the United States, considers Dex to be his arch-nemesis. Prince William Poindexter-Mountchristen Windsor, fifth in line to the British monarchy, pretends that Nursey doesn't exist. True love doesn't have to be diplomatic.Red, White, and Royal Blue AU
Relationships: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter, Larissa "Lardo" Duan/Shitty Knight
Comments: 11
Kudos: 37





	The Prince and the First Son

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on Casey McQuiston’s Red, White, and Royal Blue. For those of you unfamiliar with the story, it’s basically an enemies to lovers involving the President of the United States’ son and the crown Prince of England. If you haven’t had the chance to read it yet, it’s an amazing read with lots of queer and POC representation. Also, I owe a big thank you to @maraudeer, she introduced me to RWRB and was in love with this fic from day one!

It’s hard to imagine being a D1 college hockey player, openly bisexual, or the son of the first Black female president of the United States, but somehow, the universe wanted Derek Malik Nurse to be all of those things. He considered himself a pretty multi-faceted guy.

Nursey realized rather quickly that staying true to himself required a whole lot of _chill_ and a tough exterior–being a queer Black public figure wasn’t for the weak of heart. However, even with Nursey’s carefully fortified exterior, there was one person who still managed to get under the First Son’s skin, HRH Prince William Poindexter-Mountchristen Windsor.

Their rivalry began as teenagers during the Olympics at the USA vs England soccer match. Both country’s respective figureheads sat in the same section of VIP seating, so Nursey took it upon himself to formally introduce himself to Dex.

“Hi William, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Derek Nurse.” Nursey extended a brown hand for the prince to shake. This was his first diplomatic venture as the First Son of the United States since his mom had been sworn into office. He was more than excited to introduce himself to the world’s most famous sixteen-year-old. I mean who _wouldn’t_ want to meet the fifth person in line to the British Empire?

The prince turned around in his stadium seat to face the boy sitting behind him. He scoffed, his accent cutting his speech primly, “Who?”

Nursey gaped; it wasn’t exactly the response was expecting.

Lardo, Dex’s royal handler, nudged her way into the conversation. “He’s the President’s son.”

“Of what country?” Dex looked deliberately at the Secret Service agents, with tiny US flags pinned to their lapels, that flanked Nursey.

The small woman’s face turned up in confusion at the prince’s seemingly obvious question. “The…United States?”

“Oh,” Dex mused for a second, meeting Nursey’s gaze, “I don’t care.” He promptly turned his back to the First Son. Lardo mouthed a “sorry” to Nursey and turned around to face the game.

“Dickhead,” Nursey muttered just loud enough for the prince to hear.

Dex’s freckled face heated until the tips of his ears were red.

Shortly after, England beat the US for the Olympic gold, adding further fuel to the fire.

“Well _of course_ we won. Most Americans play a sport where lads bash their heads together for fun.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who eats beans on toast.”

“Thank you, I am rich.”

“Jesus _fucking_ Christ.”

Since that day, Derek Nurse considered the prince to be his arch-nemesis, while Dex preferred to pretend that Nursey didn’t exist.

* * *

Nursey sat in one of the White House’s many drawing rooms with the White House Trio, a ring of books around him as he worked to finish the final paper for his Modern Literature course. He dropped his head in his hands, groaning, “ _Ulysses_ is such a joke.”

“That’s what you get for changing your major back to English,” Chowder sniped, typing away at his laptop. Chris Chow, Nursey’s best friend and on-again-off-again boyfriend, was the Vice President’s grandson.

“Ok, Mr. I’ll-Have-A-Stable-Job-When-I-Graduate.” Nursey shot a middle finger at his friend. Chowder sent two back.

Nursey’s younger sister, Denise Ford-Nurse, just rolled her eyes and continued to flip through a tabloid magazine. “Y’all are dumb.”

“Says the one reading a tabloid,” Chowder chirped.

“You know I only read gossip rags to see what lies they spin about us! Look Chow, did you know your gramps is a Russian informant?”

Nursey laughed as Ford pointed to a photoshopped picture of the VP and Putin shaking hands.

“Not so quick Nursey,” Ford chided, “I didn’t know you were dating Zendaya!”

He scoffed, “I _wish_.”

Chowder, Ford, and Nursey composed the White House Trio, the unofficial name given to them after President Nurse’s inauguration. They were three conventionally attractive, bright, and diverse young adults, seen as a more relatable American equivalent of the royal family. Being that they were minor celebrities and representatives of the American democracy, they all lived in the White House and went to school around the corner at Georgetown University. The POTUS and VPOTUS figured it would be easier to save tax-payer money that way.

A notification pinged on each of their cellphones, and they all groaned collectively. The ping signified that their White House Trio calendar had been updated with more public events, press conferences, and scheduled photo-ops. Mr. Knight, or Shitty, as they lovingly called the Deputy Chief of Staff, was always heavy-handed with the events calendar.

“There’s no such thing as bad publicity, dudes,” Ford mocked Shitty’s bro-ey accent.

They laughed at the ridiculous nature of the person President Nurse entrusted to run her White House. Shitty was a walking contradiction, he graduated from a small liberal arts college (Samwell University) and then went to Harvard, he’s a hedge fund baby with a porn-stache, a stoner who constantly tried to stop the White House Trio from getting stoned.

“What did Shits add to the calendar now?”

Chowder tapped at his phone for a second before responding, “Oh, he just updated the Wedding itinerary.”

“Wedding itinerary?” Nursey questioned.

“Oh my God. How could you forget about the wedding of the fucking century!”

“It’s the _royal_ wedding,” Ford swooned, “We are _literally_ leaving the day after tomorrow!”

Nursey shrugged, “You know I’m not really into the monarchy.”

“You can pretend you’re all ‘down with imperialism’ but we all know you just don’t want to see your arch-nemesis,” said Chowder.

“Arch-nemesis?"

Chowder turned to Ford, “You know, Prince William.”

She oohed knowingly, then pointed out, “How can he be your arch-nemesis if you’ve only met him like four times?”

“Good question, Ford.”

“Because he’s an elitist asshole!” Nursey’s outburst did not catch their surprise. Ford rolled her eyes at her brother for the millionth time that day.

“I mean he’s always seemed kinda dull and to himself. Are you sure _you’re_ not the one provoking him?” Chowder had a fiendish glint in his eye. He loved to play devil’s advocate because it, without fail, always enraged Derek “Chill” Nurse. Smoke poured out of Nursey’s ears and he chuckled evilly.

“Hey, hey, chill out guys,” Ford warned, thinking back to the last time Chowder and Nursey fought (they broke a priceless vase). “All you have to do is ignore him and _not_ cause an international incident at your arch-nemesis’ brother’s wedding, Nursey.”

“Whatever,” he responded, turning back to his final paper.

“What do you think the odds are Chowder?” Ford mused.

“I’d say that there’s a 5% chance of an actual fistfight, but a 100% chance that William will look like a total redheaded dreamboat.”

“I second that.”

* * *

British and foreign nobility, politicians, and celebrities alike were all seated in Westminster Abbey. The excited chatter increased inside the church as the bells began to ring, signifying that Dex’s sister-in-law was arriving out front in her carriage. Even though he was hidden away in the wings of the church, the Prince of Wales knew the crowd outside was waving Union Jacks and homemade posters with his oldest brother’s face.

Dex usually felt overwhelmed at most Crown sanctioned events. There were too many stiffly pressed military uniforms, snotty children, and women wearing large fascinator hats that always obscured his view. But currently, at his oldest brother’s wedding, he felt relief. Now he was only nine months and a nephew away from being sixth in line to the throne. Dex sensed a similar feeling of relief from his second oldest brother who stood next to him. He knew that Jack, the black sheep of the royal family, wanted to succeed their grandmother’s throne even less.

When the organist started to play, everyone inside the Abbey stood to watch the wedding procession, and with the choir singing in the background, Dex and his brothers made their way to the alter in their starched suits and white gloves.

“ _I wonder if I will get to have something this grand one day_?” Dex thought, following behind his brothers. When he saw the enchanted look his oldest brother and his bride shared, he tried to keep a deep frown from showing on his face. “ _Probably not_ ,” he concluded.

* * *

“How the hell do you spend $75,000 on a _cake_?” Chowder said through a mouthful of finger food.

“I can barely imagine spending $7,500 on a cake,” Nursey replied, forgoing the finger foods to drink the free alcohol instead.

The wedding reception was held at Buckingham Palace, in an impossibly large and extravagant ballroom. The White House Trio sat at a table alone stuffing themselves as they stared, mesmerized, at the wedding cake which towered over the crowded room. A few attendants in their signature red coat tails and white gloves carefully guarded the dessert.

“Every tier is a different ethically sourced flavor,” Ford answered, “They flew it in from Belgium.”

Chowder and Nursey stared at her. “ _What_? I like royal weddings!”

On the other side of Nursey, Chowder gasped, “I was _so_ right, Ford. 100% dreamboat.”

Nursey turned his gaze from the cake to the prince. This was the first time Nursey had seen him up close all day. He strode towards their table, wearing the same decorative military uniform from the wedding. His red hair and freckles stood out against his starched collar, epaulettes, and all of his medals and sashes.

“I don’t see the appeal; he looks like a redheaded stepchild to me.”

Ford nudged her brother, hissing between her teeth, “Be nice.”

As they watched Dex, a royal attendant appeared beside them. He cleared his throat, “Miss Nurse.” They jumped and swiveled to face yet another man with red coat tails and white gloves. “His Royal Highness Prince William, would be honored to dance with you.”

“ _Oh my God_ , she says yes!” squeaked Chowder, pushing Ford out of her seat as Dex arrived at their table. The prince smiled at them wordlessly, his white gloved hands clasped in front of him.

Ford cut her eyes at Chowder and smoothed her dress down in the front, “I would love to!”

Dex carefully met Nursey’s gaze and gave him a curt nod. The First Son rolled his eyes at the gesture. His sister and the prince strode off arm in elbow. Chowder swooned.

On the dance floor, a cacophony of camera shutters went off. Nursey could see tomorrow’s headlines already: The Prince and the First Daughter Dance the Night Away! Is Another Royal Wedding Around the Corner?

“Attention whore,” Nursey sunk in his seat, thinking about Dex’s stupid freckled face and broad shoulders.

“Do you really think he’s doing it for the attention, Derek? He’s trying to be nice–diplomatic–which is more than I can say about you.”

Chowder’s tone was serious, so Nursey figured that now was a good time to shut up. 

When Derek stepped off Air Force One, onto the tarmac of the private terminal at Heathrow Airport, he had caught an enthusiasm about the wedding similar to Chowder and Ford. However, as he sat in the crowded ballroom at the reception, watching his sister and Dex giggle and twirl around the floor, his animosity fired back up. He grabbed two more flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and downed them. Stuffy parties were _so_ much more fun when he was drunk.

Several drinks later, Nursey was dancing with some British socialites, and _not_ thinking about Dex. The prince and the First Son were often compared, and Nursey understood why. They were both the same age and America and Britain’s respective sweethearts, but Nursey just couldn’t wrap his head around what everyone else saw in him. Objectively, Dex was charmingly dull and attractive. But when the prince opened his mouth around Nursey, all that seemed to come out was venom.

A patch of red hair caught Nursey’s eye–Dex standing alone beside the cake. Feeling up to no good and with liquid courage in his veins, Nursey sashayed toward the prince.

“Are those medals real, or do you just wear them to show off?”

“‘Ello, Derek,” Dex responded. Nursey hated his stupid British accent.

“Wow, I’m surprised you actually remember my name. Since, you know, you never talk to me.” Nursey grabbed another drink and sipped at it.

“Of course I know your name.”

“ _Of course I know your name_ ,” Nursey mocked in the other man’s accent, “Do you just like to piss me off?”

The prince chuckled, smiling wide, “You’re on the nose, Nurse.” Even his perfect smile angered Nursey.

“Do you ever get tired of pretending you're better than me?” Nursey whipped to face the prince.

Dex stopped mid sip from his flute of champagne. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You parade around, like a fancy horse, belittling people. You act like you’re shy and pretend you don’t like attention. When you _literally_ danced with my sister _for the attention_. Do you get tired of it, the pretending?”

Dex frowned. “I’m not that petty, Derek, and I’m not pretending.”

Nursey guffawed, taking a new drink from a passing waiter, “Yeah right!”

“Oh, you’re drunk.” Now it was the prince’s turn to roll his eyes.

Nursey slugged Dex’s arm playfully. “Don’t be a snob William. Have you ever had fun before?”

The prince removed Nursey’s new drink from his hand. “You need some water.”

“Have you ever _heard_ of fun?”

“Derek, please.”

“Well I’m sorry that I don’t let you get away with being an asshole.”

Before Nursey’s comment, Dex was just mildly annoyed, now he was angry. “No, Derek, _you’re_ the asshole. You _always_ start shit, that’s why I ignore you.”

Nursey gaped. “ _What_?”

“Goodbye,” Dex said firmly. He turned on his heel and began to walk away. Nursey couldn’t believe that Dex was blaming this all on him, and to top it off, he had the audacity to _walk away_. No way was Nursey going to let him have the last word. Without thinking the action through, he grabbed the prince’s shoulder, roughly pulling him back. Dex shrugged out of his grip causing Nursey to trip over his feet, drunkenly, into the table behind him. Maybe it was all the drinks he had, but Nursey felt like he was falling in slow motion.

To his horror, the table Nursey began to fall into didn’t hold a chocolate fountain, or drinks, or something ordinary. He was falling into the table that held the cake. The $75,000, Belgian, ethically sourced, wedding cake. In a foolish attempt to regain his balance, he grabbed Dex’s coat sleeve, but this only caused the prince to fall on top of him, hurtling them at an increased speed towards the cake. Nursey could only watch helplessly as the cake leaned and gave way to the pressure before collapsing on top of them.

The ballroom went silent. Nursey was sure he heard a pin drop. His first thought was celebratory–he won the fight. His second thought was fear–his mom was definitely going to skin him alive.

Beside him, Dex let out a quiet, “ _What the fuck_.”

Derek Nurse sighed deeply, feeling the unpleasant _smush_ of buttercream and fondant and sponge cake underneath and on top of him. He heard the distinct click-crack of a camera shutter and flash.

His last thought was this–he _might_ have caused an international scandal.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all thanks so much for giving this a read! I hope you enjoyed it! You can find me on tumblr @/nurseyschill.
> 
> Up Next: The Cake Fall Heard 'Round the World


End file.
